aid they sought.

Though neither of them would have cared to confess it to the other,
they were tired. They had been walking steadily since early morning,
and they had carried what were, to them, heavy packs.

Phil had a light woven-grass hammock in her bundle that had once been
swung across the deck of the "Merry Maid." Madge carried a light,
rubber-proof blanket, which was their sole protection against rain. Of
course, the girls divided the burden of the food supply for their two
days' march.

At last, out of sheer weariness, they dropped their packs under a tree
and sat down to rest. They had hoped to have the satisfaction of
reaching the opposite side of the island before nightfall. They longed
to know if land could be seen from that side, or if passing ships could
be hailed from the beach.

Madge's head was resting in Phil's lap when she heard a peculiar
buzzing in her ears, which she thought must come from weariness. She
sat up with a jerk.

"Don't stir," begged Phil. "You and I are too tired to move on now. I
am sure I hear the noise of the ocean. We can't be very far from a
beach. Surely, surely, we will find something, or somebody, on this
shore."

Madge lay down again and for a few minutes neither girl spoke.

Phyllis was thinking of home. She was also wondering what young
Lieutenant Lawton must have thought of her disappearance with his box.

The mysterious box was in the bottom of her trunk in their lodge in the
woods. What a time she had had, dragging the trunk ashore, and then,
piece by piece, carrying its contents to the lodge! Phil laughed. If
Jimmy Lawton wanted his box kept safe, he had certainly given it to the
right person. But if he happened to need the contents on land, at the
present time, he would have to cry for it.

Phil gave Madge a little shake. "Come on," she commanded. "I have an
idea that we had better go to the beach. I can't wait another second. I
somehow feel as though we would find friends there. I can't believe
that we are the only persons on this island."

Phil's hopefulness was inspiring. Madge sprang to her feet and the two
girls hurried ahead, leaving their bundles under the tree.

The booming of the surf soon smote their ears, then the welcome splash
and murmur of the waves. Like two little girls, Madge and Phil joined
hands and ran down to the open shore.

Far and wide was a waste of water and a pebbly beach. It was lonely,
far lonelier than their own shore. The "